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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27495676">to my motion fatigue, farewell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakayuni/pseuds/bakayuni'>bakayuni</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:02:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,200</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27495676</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakayuni/pseuds/bakayuni</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been three months since he’s moved to Rio for his foreign league team. Kiyoomi has been managing well, so far.</p><p>Kiyoomi has been managing well in not missing Osamu, except his very much alive fiancé has been haunting him in his sleep.</p><p>Or: every night, Kiyoomi has been accompanied by dreams of Osamu instead of the latter’s warm body beside him. The real Osamu is oceans away from him. Every night, he let it happen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Osamu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>🐶🍙 omigiri fanfic collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>to my motion fatigue, farewell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasupare/gifts">pasupare</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title of the fic is taken from owl city's the saltwater room. written for omigiri day!</p><p>hope you enjoy reading it! not beta-read.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s always night, here.</p><p>The wind is harsh and cold as ever too. If Kiyoomi didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t have thought he was dreaming.</p><p>The Osamu here never seemed to find that a problem, though. Maybe because he always seemed to be appropriately dressed for the weather.</p><p>Long, grey, button-less coat. Black trousers. White-rimmed sneakers. Black t-shirt. Black hair—almost grey, in the moonlight.</p><p>Kiyoomi didn’t know how he knew Osamu’s outfit in so much detail—it’s not like he ever wore those in real life. And the only thing he ever saw of Osamu here is his back.</p><p>Maybe that’s for the best.</p><p>The place is always the same, too—in a beach, by the shore. Sometimes Osamu walked alongside it, but mostly he just. Stands. And stare.</p><p>Not staring on—not to the horizon, nor to the skyline. He stared <em>up</em>—to the nonexistent stars above in the midnight sky.</p><p>To the planes that weren’t there anymore.</p><p>Kiyoomi shivered violently. The cold <em>bites. </em>He wished he could wrap his arms around himself.</p><p>As much as Kiyoomi wanted to wrap his arms around his fiancé instead, Kiyoomi knew he could never take a single step in this part of the dream. He knew—he tried before. Kiyoomi couldn’t move or speak—he wasn’t even sure if he could <em>breathe</em>.</p><p>So he stared. Not at the sky like Osamu was, not <em>searching </em>like Osamu was.</p><p>Instead, he stared at <em>Osamu. </em>He wasn’t searching like Osamu, because unlike him, Kiyoomi knew exactly what he could be looking for, and he was. Looking. At the something that he would ever search for. Or someone.</p><p>No, Kiyoomi was <em>basking. </em>He used this opportunity to <em>soak</em> in the imaginary presence of someone dearest to him. One he hasn’t seen in months.</p><p>This was the part of the dream where he was physically closest to Osamu. Yet he couldn’t even see his face—because Osamu was busy searching for <em>him.</em></p><p>Kiyoomi was staring at the back of someone he hoped would turn around and look at him—who couldn’t, because Osamu was fully occupied of waiting for Kiyoomi to appear in front of him.</p><p>Kiyoomi never appreciated irony. He didn’t know what his mind was trying to tell him, either—all he knew is that this was the part he hated most. After all, Kiyoomi has been managing well in not missing the fiancé he’s lived with for three years. But this dream—the thought of <em>Osamu missing him</em>—is startlingly effective in pushing him to the breaking point.</p><p>Like always, amidst the lullabies of the rolling waves and the whistling wind, Kiyoomi stared at Osamu’s back. This was the quietest and most peaceful torture Kiyoomi had ever been subjected to, he thinks.</p><p>In the seemingly nonexistent concept of time, every moment feels like an eternity.</p><p>Like always, Kiyoomi waits for the eternal torture to pass.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>After so long a moment (moments?) spent staring, Kiyoomi finally saw it—the telltale sign of Osamu turning around.</p><p>Kiyoomi didn’t held any hope of seeing his face. This exact scenario, too, played out many times before. Kiyoomi didn’t expect it to change anytime soon.</p><p>At least this part would end.</p><p>Mentally saying goodbye to Osamu’s back he so loyally gazed at, Kiyoomi prepared himself.</p><p>The next part comes with a whoosh.</p><p>Alongside the slightest of profile Kiyoomi managed the briefest glance at, so too the moonlight from above Osamu blinded him. For as much as Kiyoomi always tried to keep his eyes open so he can see more of Osamu’s face (more, always <em>more), </em>he was never able to.</p><p>Kiyoomi should’ve known better—but somehow, this was the part he could never bring himself to give up on trying, even if he tried giving up.</p><p>When Kiyoomi opened his eyes, he was no longer on the beach—instead surrounded by numerous subway tunnels, with equally numerous trains whizzing past him.</p><p>The wind beating on his skin was the only thing that didn’t change.</p><p>Osamu was still there—but further. More distant. More unreachable. Kiyoomi wouldn’t know he was there if he didn’t know where to look. Any other person would’ve find it funny (again, Kiyoomi never appreciated irony), because Osamu has finally turned around to face him.</p><p>Except he stood on the tall end of the subway stairs, the one leading down to the platforms. Kiyoomi was stuck on said platform, waiting for a train whose ticket he bought years ago but suddenly wanted to back out from, and Osamu—Osamu. Osamu was not the one who bought the ticket. Kiyoomi didn’t bought a ticket for him. Osamu couldn’t go down with him to the platform.</p><p>It was Kiyoomi’s turn to look up—to <em>search.</em></p><p>The only part of his face Kiyoomi could see was his mouth, and Osamu’s mouth was saying something—to him—except the wind is harsh both in its cold and its sound.</p><p>Kiyoomi looked up, still.</p><p>He continued looking up at Osamu’s partially hidden face—at the mouth that continues moving soundlessly—until he felt <em>another </em>telltale of something shifting.</p><p>He continued looking up, even as the scenery around him faded into white and his footing is sinking—he still looked up, even when Osamu was fast fading out of his sight.</p><p>This too, was familiar.</p><p>Kiyoomi closed his eyes. This far into the dream, he’s long since learned that vision was useless now. In fact, as Kiyoomi felt his feet sinking even further into mud-like substance, he decided that <em>all</em> his other senses were useless—besides one.</p><p>Kiyoomi submerged.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The rattling sound of howling wind has long since passed—replaced by the gurgling of water all around. Kiyoomi didn’t know if he was floating or drowning. He didn’t care to know, all he felt was all he heard.</p><p>The sound of water didn’t stop—instead, it increased in a crescendo, like waves building up, preparing to land on the shore. But that wasn’t the sound Kiyoomi was searching for. Kiyoomi was searching for a <em>voice.</em></p><p>And not long after, there it was—wrapped in the protective bubble of rushing water, acting like the wall Moses made when he separated the sea. Except it’s separating Kiyoomi from his love.</p><p>Except, it’s separating Kiyoomi from Osamu.</p><p>(“You are oceans away, you are oceans away,” the water seemed to chant to him in reminder.)</p><p>Even so, he could still hear the faint sound of Osamu’s voice, no matter how hard the water worked at keeping it concealed. Could <em>felt </em>the lilt of his tone caressing his ears.</p><p>Kiyoomi never could make out a single syllable—but he chose to be thankful of what little he could get. Kiyoomi focused on the voice.</p><p>It was like calling Osamu, except their phones are replaced with seashells that contains a whole ocean, and neither of their messages could ever be truly conveyed to one another.</p><p>But he was there. Oceans aside, Osamu was there.</p><p>Kiyoomi lost himself in the sounds of Osamu—and the sounds of crashing waves that grew even louder to engulf it. Eventually, Osamu’s voice, too, was lost. At that point, he already knew.</p><p>Kiyoomi opened his eyes. He had already woken up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the entirety of this fic is inspired by the same song the title was taken from. i practically ripped out the lyrics into the fic. no regrets.</p><p>thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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